Torment
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot. He needs to hear her say his name. He needs that reassurance.


Title: Tormented  
Summary: He needs to hear her say his name. He needs that reassurance.  
Characters: John & Teyla  
Pairing: John/Teyla  
Rating: T-M

azure-horizon./25255.html#cutid1

She wants to ask him what he is doing there, he can tell but he silences her with a finger to his lips and a flick of his head. The Athosian part of the city was quiet, deserted; the citizens having fallen into slumber long hours before. She wants to protest as he grips her wrist and tugs her down empty, eerie corridors he can tell from the way she whispers his name but he doesn't respond, just keeps walking.

He isn't quite sure what has driven him to seek her out like this, he just knows that he had to see her; had to know that she was back and alive and _okay_. Because he's pretty sure _he's _not okay. Since she'd gone missing, months before, he's been tormented with guilt, by her ghost haunting him in his dreams. Now that they'd found her, her hollow eyes and thin figure had tormented him, inflicting more pain on him than Michael ever had.

She hesitates when he swipes his hand over his door, the two pieces of metal sliding apart, granting him access to his quarters. He turns to her, his eyes pleading with her. She pauses, staring before she relents and he can see in that instant how much the past months have tormented _her _as well.

When the door slides shut behind her, he pins her to it, his eyes roving her face, burning her new features into his mind. He doesn't give her a chance to think up excuses as to why he can't kiss her, doesn't give her a chance to tell him that this is wrong as his lips press hungrily into hers, seeking refuge in the warmth that only she can give him.

He pulls back and stares at her, wishing that she was his, that he'd let her be his. His hand rises to her face, cradling her features in his fingers, his eyes riveted to hers, unwilling to break her stare.

"Talk to me," he pleads silently as his lips nuzzle her cheekbones, his nose delving into her hair. He wants to hear her voice outside the confines of his dreams, needs to know what she sounds like now that she's lost so much. "_Talk _to me."

"I knew you would find me," she murmurs into his ear, her lips brushing the skin of his neck with a warmth so gentle, so needy that it almost sends him crumbling to his knees. He drops his hand, following the gentle curve of her waist, sliding his arm around her back and drawing her closer to him, her body flush against his. "_John..."_

He kisses her again, slow and languid, seeking and giving pleasure, comfort. Her hands on his shoulders are light but sure, tracing the bones beneath fabric and skin. The feel of her skin against his is exquisite and he's sure it must be a sin to feel the way he does. He skims her waist, his fingers playing with the material resting on her hips and he bunches the soft material of her night shirt in his fist, pushing her further into the metal behind her.

"I missed you, Teyla," he mumbles against her lips when he breaks away and at the use of her name she quivers in his arms. "I could have lost you."

"I am here," she tells him but the words don't seem true.

"I wanted you." He kisses her eyes, tasting the salty liquid of her tears. "I have always wanted you," he whispers into her ear as his kisses take him there. His fingers draw up her nightdress, the soft material crumpling in his hand.

"I know," she whispers, watching him through heavy eyes and he revels in the gasp that escapes her lips as he holds her breast in his hand, weighing it, toying with it. What little light there is in the room casts half her face in shadow, her dark eyes catching their blue reflections, glittering in the dimness. "_John..."_

He needs to hear her say his name. He needs that reassurance.

He draws her from the door by her waist, his hand commanding as he tugs her down onto the bed with him, their eyes never parting, never wavering. She is seeing through to the man inside, he knows, he can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she touches him with her fragile fingers. He slides the straps from her shoulders and the material slides further down her body. He reaches up with his lips and hovers over the peak there and she arches into him, her body colliding hard with his. He latches on to her nipple, tugging it between his teeth and he can't take his eyes from her.

He needs to know this isn't a dream.

She stands and the night dress slides down her slender figure and he watches as she watches him, her eyes closing of their own accord as he reaches out and traces her soft skin with a gentle, inquisitive finger. She bends into his touch, her hip thrusting forward as his breath tickles it. He stands to meet her, bends his head and kisses her again, tentative and slow, his hands exploring skin that's tormented his dreams for years.

"Tell me you're real; that you're really here."

Her hands snake under his shirt and tugs it over his head, her eyes meeting his again, laden with a sadness he won't ever be able to erase. It shows him how real she is. That pain is something he could never dream up. Her fingers dance over his skin as her eyes fall to his chest, his abdomen eyeing scars from wounds long ago healed. His trousers slide to the floor with ease and his naked body shivers in the cool night air.

He's never felt so uncertain with a woman, not like this.

Tentatively, he reaches up, grasps her body in his hands and pulls her to him.

"I never wanted any of this to happen." He turns them and pushes her to the edge of the bed, watches as she folds onto it and he hovers over her, his arms bracing him against the bed.

"There was nothing you could have done to stop it."

He lowers his head and traces a lazy line of open mouthed kisses across her collar bones, her breasts filling his mouth.

"I almost lost you."

She shivers in his arms and he looks up, catches her eyes through her half lidded stare. Her hands slide into his hair, pulling him up her body and he can feel how ready she is for him.

"I am here, John." She thrusts up against him and he slides into her, his eyes sliding shut of their own accord. "I am here, with you."

He moves inside of her experimentally and she rewards him with a gentle moan, muffled in his shoulder. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she clings to him.

"You're here."

He struggles against his body's desire for speed, for more, his whole body quivering with restraint. He grasps her chin between his fingers and lowers his lips to hers, closing his eyes to cherish the moment.

When he opens them, he's alone in his bed, fully clothed. Disoriented, he looks around, beside him to the empty space beside him.

He closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, willing to emptiness in his gut away.

She wasn't there; never had been.

It was just another tormented dream.

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart  
The waking up is the hardest part  
you roll out of bed and down on your knees  
and for a moment you can hardly breath..._

John Mayer, Dreaming with a broken heart


End file.
